


the mess that you wanted

by nobirdstofly



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humiliation, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobirdstofly/pseuds/nobirdstofly
Summary: “You know,” Tommy says, conversationally, like his big hand hasn’t just landed on Jon’s upper thigh, “I usually fuck smart people.”Or, Jon puts his Halloween costume to good use.





	the mess that you wanted

**Author's Note:**

> everything is super consensual here, but there is a touch of derogatory language, a fair amount of verbal humiliation, and Tommy is overall, uh. not nice. written for [this prompt](https://podsavethekink.dreamwidth.org/659.html?thread=48019#cmt48019), which requested Jon wearing his Jared Kushner Halloween costume to help Tommy with his ~feelings. title from Taylor Swift. please be cool and keep this filth away from anyone remotely involved.
> 
> many thanks to [elopement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elopement) for pushing me to finish this! it would've languished without the cheerleading.

They’re on tour in DC when Jon decides to go for it. He didn’t make extra room in his suitcase for clothes he won’t wear otherwise this weekend for nothing, after all. He leaves Tommy at the hotel bar, pretending he has to grab something from the room. Tommy offers to come up with him, leers and says he’d love to help Jon out.

It’s worth lying to him for the moment that Tommy spots him walking back in from the lobby. He sees the surprise on Tommy’s face, sees him quickly adding it all up. Sees him clock the preppy suit coat and unflattering khakis. The sunglasses tucked in with the pocket square.

They’ve never—this is new. Jon didn’t even ask. They’ve played around with stuff of this ilk before, Tommy taking charge, Jon asking for what he wants, but never anything this serious or intense.

Definitely not anything that’s involved Tommy potentially being rough with him. Every time Jon pushes for it, sees the flare of want in Tommy’s eyes, Tommy stops himself. He’s so careful with Jon, all the time. And sure, Jon loves feeling safe, loves feeling like he’s being taken care of. Tommy’s so good at it, and it’s great, it is. But Jon can’t stop thinking about the strength Tommy has in his hands and his arms, in his entire body. The power he has over Jon without even trying, and how he could channel it.

Plus, Jon’s not stupid. He sees how worked up Tommy gets, the way he furiously typed _bitchy little dilettante_ like he couldn’t help himself. He watched the way Tommy watched him the whole night last Halloween.

It’s all still so new, and he’s trying to respect Tommy’s self-imposed rules. It’s just. Some of the rules seem like they’re for Jon’s benefit, and Jon is not benefiting. So they’ve never done anything likes this, never anything delving in this deep.

He holds his breath as he sits on the stool next to Tommy, not touching him, just watching. He’s suddenly terrified he’s gone too far. God, why is his mouth so dry? He should’ve asked. Why didn’t he ask?

He forces himself to choke out, “Come here often?” Like an asshole.

Tommy stares at him for a long moment before he almost starts to laugh, but he reins himself in at the last second. His mouth settles into a smirk, his eyes lit up. He’s not—he doesn't _look_ mad. “That the best you’ve got?”

Jon shrugs one shoulder. This he can do. He can flirt, even when he’s pretending to be a giant douchebag. “What can I say, I like the classics.”

Tommy takes a long swallow of his own drink and pushes a second tumblr that Jon hadn’t noticed over to him. He must’ve ordered two right away, waiting for Jon to come back. It’s so Tommy, kind and expected, and it still makes Jon grin uncontrollably. Tommy flashes him a quick, real smile and bumps his knee against Jon’s briefly.

Trying to settle back into it, Jon takes a drink. “Waiting for someone?”

“Maybe I was just waiting for a pretty idiot to stumble in,” Tommy says, his voice pitched low. Jon can feel his face heating up. “Someone dumb enough to chat up the last person they should.”

“Are you, though? The last person I should?”

“You know,” Tommy says, conversationally, like his big hand hasn’t just landed on Jon’s upper thigh, “I usually fuck smart people.”

“Yeah?” Jon asks, because this has escalated faster than he expected. He feels out of his depth, in a really good way.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Tommy mimics. He tightens his hand, to the point of dull pain. Jon’s breath hisses out through his teeth. “Maybe I’ll make an exception for you. You’re definitely pretty enough. Will you make it worth my while?”

“Please, yes, you know I—”

“Do I? All I know is you’ve never been successful at anything you’ve tried in your entire life. Why would this be any different?”

“I can—”

“Why should I waste my time with a fucking throwaway who’s never done an honest day’s work?” Tommy asks. He moves his hand up higher, dangerously close to indecent, and still just as tight.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Jon says. He’s struggling to breathe normally. “I’ll—I’ll work for you. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Tommy lets him go, but not before he brushes his fingers lightly against where Jon’s hard in pants. Jon bites his lip to keep quiet, glaring at Tommy.

Fucking Tommy, who just smirks more and says, “Finish your drink. Don’t make me waste my money on you, too.”

 

 

In the elevator, Tommy grabs Jon’s wrist and squeezes it lightly. Jon looks over, and it’s normal Tommy, his Tommy. Smiling and open, a little shy. To his credit, Tommy doesn’t ask if he’s sure. Instead he says, “You have to talk to me, okay? You have to be honest.”

Jon nods fervently. “I will, I promise. I can take it.”

“I know you can.” Tommy drops his wrist, smiling when Jon shivers.

 

 

He shoves Jon backwards into the room as soon as the door’s open. Jon trips over the edge of a suitcase and nearly goes down. Tommy’s hands on him would normally mean he’s catching Jon, helping him. Right now, Tommy finishes the job, pushing him to the carpet.

“Get on your knees, you brat.”

Jon moans and shuffles into place. He still has his shoes on, what the fuck.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks. “That easy for it?” He’s unbuttoning his fly, pulling his cock out. He’s already so hard. Jon’s mouth is watering. “Guess you’re used to getting what you ask for, huh? Everything handed to you on a fucking silver platter.”

Jon stays still and quiet, his mouth open in invitation. Tommy takes it, getting a hand on Jon’s jaw and tipping his head back, his other hand pushing his cock into Jon’s mouth. Jon groans, trying to keep his eyes open and on Tommy’s face.

Tommy sets a quick, shallow pace, and when Jon tries to push down further, he pulls out entirely. Jon whines.

“This isn’t for you,” Tommy gasps, tapping his cock against Jon’s lips. “You’re not in charge. Should be used to it by now.”

The rhythm resumes, Tommy going a bit deeper with every thrust. He’s pulling out nearly all the way each time, making it a struggle for Jon to not lurch forward. To just kneel and take what he’s being given. He likes this, Tommy using him, he just wants more of it. When the head of Tommy’s cock brushes the back of his throat, Jon can’t help the way he moves, eagerly trying to get it deeper. Tommy pulls out entirely, fast enough that Jon worries for a second that his teeth might’ve scraped him.

He’s still holding Jon’s face firmly when he pulls back his other hand and slaps him. It’s open-palmed and not too hard, and Jon can’t even move with the force of it the way he wants because of Tommy’s hand keeping him there. He’s panting, staring up at Tommy in shock.

Tommy looks a little surprised, too, and Jon can see him starting to doubt, to drop the game. “Jon, I—”

“Green,” Jon says, “so, so green,” all in a rush, nuzzling into the hand on his jaw. He nudges his nose against Tommy’s wrist, showing the side of his face where he can feel heat spreading on his cheek.

He watches Tommy take a few deep breaths out of the corner of his eye, straightening his shoulders again. He drops his hand from Jon’s face, and Jon closes his eyes. Tommy’s going to walk away, which is fine. It’s totally fine. He pushed too far, and they can just have really sweet, satisfying, normal sex, and it’ll be awesome, like always, and—

Jon gasps as Tommy’s palm connects with the other side of his face. That hit was definitely harder, and the sting feels like it radiates out to his whole body. “Holy shit, Tom,” he says, staring up the long distance of his body.

The smile on Tommy’s face is fierce and mean. It makes Jon’s blood run hot.

“You like being put in your place?” Tommy asks. “Someone keeping you on task, for once?”

Jon nods. It earns him another slap, though this one is lighter, almost playful in comparison.

“Out loud.”

“Yes,” Jon breathes.

“Good boy,” Tommy says, grabbing Jon’s jaw again. Jon groans, opening his mouth so Tommy can push his cock back in. “Maybe this is the only thing you’re good at, huh?”

Jon moans, keeping his eyes on Tommy’s face, where Tommy’s watching him intently. He’s flushed all down of his neck, and probably under his shirt, too, where Jon can’t see yet. His thrusts are deeper this time, just shy of letting Jon gag on it.

“Have you ever had to fight for anything?” Tommy asks, moving his hand to the back of Jon’s head and easing him forward. His cock is just breaching Jon’s throat. “Do you know what it’s like to struggle? To want?”

Tommy lets him go so Jon can answer. He barely gasps out, “I want right now,” before Tommy pulls him in again, cock sliding more easily in and out. Jon focuses on breathing through his nose.

Tommy’s starting to move his hips, finally starting to push deeper and deeper. Jon can feel his eyes getting wet. He’s so hard. Without making a conscious decision, one of his hands slips from where it was bunched in the fabric of his khakis to palm his own cock.

That earns him another slap, right on his cheek where it’s hollowed out from sucking. Jon whines, and it’s quiet underneath the wet sounds of Tommy moving in and out of his mouth, his throat.

“Can you come like this? On your knees, choking on my cock?”

Jon just whines more, shutting his eyes, because Tommy _knows_ he can. He’s seen it. Tommy’s never been this rough about it, but they’ve done this. Jon has stripped his own cock while gagging on Tommy’s more than once.

“Should I help you out?” Tommy sets the hard sole of his shoe against the bulge in Jon’s pants, and Jon grinds up without meaning to. He holds Jon’s head down all the while. “Do you deserve it?”

Jon blinks away the moisture in his eyes and tries to silently make it clear how much he’ll take whatever Tommy wants to give him right now. This is all—it’s a lot. Tommy presses his foot down harder, and Jon actually chokes, gagging and struggling to breathe. Tommy tugs him off immediately, keeping his hand on the back of Jon’s neck as he catches his breath.

“How’re you doing, pretty boy?” Tommy asks, using his other hand to keep pumping his erection. He’s staring at Jon, carefully assessing him, but he’s not backing down.

“Good, I’m. Really good. Are you—?”

“Get up,” Tommy says, in lieu of an answer. He steps back and doesn’t offer to help Jon up. Once Jon’s on his feet, a little unsteady, Tommy says, “Strip,” in a tone that doesn’t leave any room for argument.

Jon does, shucking the stupid blazer and absently hoping he didn’t just break his sunglasses as it falls to the floor. He forces his heels out of his dress shoes, not bothering to untie them. He can’t get his belt unhooked for forever, but Tommy just watches him the whole time. Careful and considering, taking off his own clothes at his own pace. He’s beating Jon, and Jon’s hands won’t stop trembling when he pushes down his underwear with the khakis, staring at Tommy’s broad, muscled body as it’s unveiled.

He’s still not over this, the permission to look. To not have to sneak glances out of the corner of his eye, or look away every time Tommy feels his stare. He doesn’t have to pretend he’s not looking now, and if he gets a little lost, his pants still stuck around his ankles, fuck it, it’s kind of in character, right?

“Like what you see?” Tommy’s voice is rough. His chest flushed down past his sternum.

“Yeah, you, you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“Fucking hot,” Jon says, in a rush, trying to work his face into a cocky grin.

Tommy ducks his head for a moment, shy, but his smile’s gone when he looks back up. He walks up so he’s in Jon’s space, careful to not touch him. Jon wants to sway forward, but he locks his knees and fights every instinct to try to stay still.

“Can’t even get out of your pants right, jesus,” Tommy says, stepping on them so Jon can wriggle his feet out. His arms are loose at his sides, still not touching. Keeping a careful distance. “Are you fucking useless at everything?”

Jon can’t help the way he shivers. He grips his right hand in his left in front of him, keeping a tight hold so he doesn’t reach out to run his hands up Tommy’s ribs, his shoulders, his arms.

“Thought you’d at least be good at this, what with all the slutting around to lobbyists and Russian goons you’ve been doing. How else could you be getting any intel? You’re too fucking stupid for anyone to trust, you incompetent, treasonous fuck.”

Tommy reaches forward and pushes two fingers into Jon’s mouth without preamble. Jon moans, tightening his grip on his own hand. Tommy roughly shoves in a third, pushing back until his neatly trimmed nails brush the back of Jon’s throat. Jon groans. Tommy pulls out his fingers, slick with saliva, and palms Jon’s face, spreading it over his cheek as he holds him still.

He’s standing so close, and Jon can see how hard he’s breathing, mouth open. Jon tips his head up, just barely meeting Tommy’s lips with his own before Tommy’s wet hand is on his chest. He shoves him back, and Jon’s sent sprawling onto the bed, limbs akimbo.

“I don’t kiss whores,” Tommy says, and Jon has to screw his eyes shut and try to remember to breathe.

Tommy gives him a minute, which Jon is beyond grateful for, before he says, softer, “Color?”

Jon’s nodding before the words are out of his mouth, opening his eyes to look up at Tommy. “Green. Please, _please_.”

Tommy opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, then he shakes his head and lets his face smooth back out into blankness. His eyes flicker to the nightstand, where Jon had left out lube and condoms before going to the bar.

He smirks. “Feeling pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

“I, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Hands and knees,” Tommy says, fetching the lube. “Now.”

Jon clambers to obey, locking his elbows so maybe they’ll stop shaking. Tommy runs a hand down his spine to his ass. Not wasting any time, he gets his hands on either cheek and spreads them apart. Jon groans, guttural, then jumps when he feels something wet splash against his hole. He can see where Tommy left the lube on the bed. He hasn’t even opened it yet, so— _fuck_. Tommy spits again, and Jon can feel the tiniest bit of it sliding inside him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, spreading his legs wider and hanging his head.

Tommy gathers some of the spit where it’s sliding down the crease and carefully pushes a finger inside him. Jon doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until he hears the snick of a cap opening, too busy blindly shoving himself back into Tommy’s hand. Tommy slides in a second finger, wet, to join the first.

“You’re lucky I’m even using lube,” Tommy says, low and rough.

Jon makes a high-pitched noise that would be embarrassing if he could think straight. He knows Tommy would never, never fuck him without it. He _knows_. But he’s thought about it, guilty and hot, and he’s thinking about it now. About Tommy working him open with just spit, fucking Jon’s mouth to get his dick wet enough before forcing his way into Jon’s ass.

He’s never done that with Tommy, never even mentioned it. He’s pretty sure it’s one of those things that would make Tommy frown at him. Not angry, but weirdly disappointed, like Jon’s done something wrong, or something wrong’s been done to him. Jon hates those looks. They make him feel itchy all over, like when his skin starts to peel after a sunburn.

He pushes back on Tommy’s fingers until Tommy says, “That good enough for you?”

Normally, he’d use three. Minimum, if Jon’s being honest. He’s tried to tell Tommy he can take it after only two before. That he likes the stretch, that he wants it, but Tommy always demurred and kept going. Jon doesn’t know what it is about him that makes Tommy treat him like he’s precious, and sometimes he wonders, biting back jealousy, if this is how he always is with people he’s sleeping with.

Jon’s seen him be mean, though. Terrible and cutting toward those he disagrees with, even biting with their friends. Tommy has sharp edges, so many of them, and Jon wants to bring them out.

It’s what he’s been hoping for this whole time. It’s what he’s thinking about when he says, “ _Yes_ ,” even though Tommy’s already pulling his fingers out. He can hear Tommy opening a condom, and he wants to protest, but there’s no way he could and still be even remotely playing this game.

“Good,” Tommy says. “Like I said, this isn’t about you.”

Then his cock is there, blunt pressure and big as ever against him. Tommy pushes in, steady and sure while Jon whines, rocking back and trying to get more, now. Tommy’s hands fly to his hips, gripping hard. He holds Jon in place until just the head is in, and then, he stills.

“Please, please fuck me. Tommy, please,” Jon says.

Tommy’s breathing hard, Jon can hear it, but he sounds mostly composed when he says, “Jesus, I didn’t even have to ask you to beg. It just comes so easily to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, sure, _please_ ,” Jon says. He’s babbling, he knows he is, but he can’t seem to stop.

“ _Whatever_ ,” Tommy repeats, his voice snide.

Tommy thrusts hard, sinking the rest of the way into Jon in one fell swoop. Jon cries out as his back arches. His arms are shaking, and he knows they’re going to give out sooner than later. Like he’s reading Jon’s mind, Tommy runs a hand up from his hip to between his shoulder blades, and then pushes down, forcing Jon’s face into the mattress.

Jon falls onto his forearms, his back dipping more dramatically when Tommy grips his hips again to pull Jon back onto his cock. Jon whines, his forehead barely grazing the plush pillows. He feels Tommy pull out, all the way, so his ass is stretched around just the head, shaking for a moment, before Tommy pushes back in. He keeps letting Jon feel the full length of him before shoving back inside. Making sure he feels every fucking inch, each time. He does it again and again, quick and sure, before he suddenly pulls out, all the way out.

“Shut up and come here,” Tommy says when he whines, and then Jon can feel him shifting off the bed. He grabs Jon and pulls back, leaving him scrambling to keep up. Crawling backwards until he’s at the edge of the mattress, his toes hanging off. Tommy gets a hand on the back of Jon’s neck and pushes his face down again, before shoving back inside him with no warning.

“Oh fuck,” Jon gasps against the bed.

Tommy can put his weight behind every thrust now, and he does. He keeps Jon pinned as he starts to move faster, fucking into him at a near-brutal pace. Normally, Jon would give as good as he gets, pushing back, helping out and fucking himself on Tommy’s cock, but he’s a little too gone for that right now so he just. Just _goes_ with it.

He’s been hard for what feels like hours at this point, has been since the bar. Since Tommy called him _pretty_ and _dumb_ in the space of a few breaths. It’s almost too much now, his cock straining, unable to get any release. There’s no way Tommy’ll let him touch himself, and his hips are too high for him to rub off against the bed.

“Please,” he mumbles into the sheets, where they’re getting damp with his drool. “Please touch me. I need to—”

“I’ll decide,” Tommy says, sounding gratifyingly out of breath, “what you need.”

“Fine, fine,” Jon says. “I want to, I want to come, please. Please let me.”

Tommy groans and buries himself all the way inside Jon and freezes. Jon can feel sweat dripping off him onto Jon’s back. He stays still long enough that Jon starts to rock against him, braced on his forearms. Chasing the feeling of Tommy fucking him.

Tommy tightens the hand on the back of Jon’s neck, and Jon stops with a whine. Tommy releases his hold, sliding his hand around to the front, his fingers closing around Jon’s throat.

“Oh shit, shit, yeah—” is all Jon gets out before Tommy squeezes, cutting him off.

He yanks Jon back into him in one smooth movement, so Jon’s on his knees, arms hanging useless at his sides. Jon grabs for the hand at his neck. Not to stop him, just to feel it. Feel the way the veins in Tommy’s arm are bulging, all the muscles taut with the effort of holding Jon up like this. Shaking, Jon pushes his knees farther apart so he’s balanced better.

“If you need me to let go, you’re going to tap my hand three times. Got it?” Tommy asks, low and right into Jon’s ear. Tommy’s hand tightens. “Nod so I know you understand.”

Jon nods so hard his head knocks lightly back against Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy continues, “I’m not going to touch you, and you’re not going to touch yourself either. You’ll come on my cock or not at all.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jon gasps out, his throat already so sensitive.

It takes a minute for Tommy to get going this way, and he has to move Jon forward a little so he can get his own knees back on the bed. The angle is a little awkward, but Jon barely notices. Tommy’s flexing his hand and breathing hot behind his ear. Jon could die happily or live in this moment forever. He’s not picky.

Except Tommy’s not tightening his hand as much as he could. As much as Jon kind of wishes he would. It’s not enough to actually cut off Jon’s air, and he wants—he wants to hold his breath for Tommy. He wants to prove he can do this, show how good this is for him, how good it can be for them both.

He sags forward, his body bowing a little, so more of his weight is on the hand at his throat. So that Tommy’s actually holding him up, not just steadying him. Tommy groans and curses under his breath. Jon leans into his hand as much as he can.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, and he doesn’t wait for an answer before tightening his hand.

It takes a second for Jon to run out of air, barely able to get in any with each reedy breath. Tommy doesn’t let up. He keeps his hand firm and his thrusts steady, before slowly loosening his grip, leaving Jon to suck in panting breaths that burn.

“Good,” Tommy whispers, and laughs when Jon shivers at the word. “Maybe you’re not so useless after all.”

He strokes his fingers roughly over Jon’s throat for a little while before wrapping them around again, squeezing in time with his thrusts. Jon pushes his neck forward as much as he can, and Tommy takes the hint. He tightens his hand again, just under Jon’s jaw, tipping his head back onto Tommy’s shoulder.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come and prove you’re worth something.”

Jon nods, holding on to Tommy’s arm with both hands, feeling the strength and the control there. Tommy keeps tightening and releasing his hand, the pattern unpredictable. Jon’s chest is burning and his legs are getting sore, and everything feels so hot and immediate. So—so _much_.

“C’mon,” Tommy says. “Show me.”

And Jon does, his body tightening like a vice around Tommy’s cock as Tommy’s hand cuts off his air completely. He comes so hard he whites out a little from it, even as Tommy lets go of his throat, lets him fall onto the bed. He’s gasping in air greedily when Tommy follows him down, lays his whole body out on top of Jon’s. He hasn’t stopped fucking him, not even for a second, and he’s a warm, heavy weight on Jon’s back. Every push of him inside makes Jon whine more, makes him feel like he still can’t breathe.

“God, baby, you’re so,” Tommy’s saying, burying the words in Jon’s shoulders. Jon finds his hand and squeezes it, and Tommy follows him over the precipice with a loud cry.

When Tommy finally pulls out and shifts off of Jon, he immediately rolls him onto his back to kiss his face and neck and shoulders, soft and content. He’s muttering a litany of what sounds like, “Good, good, you’re so good for me. So fucking perfect. God, Jon, you—”

Jon pulls him back to his mouth, digging his fingers into Tommy’s back, deepening the kiss. Trying to convey his thanks with his tongue and teeth. He doesn’t let Tommy get away for a long time, reveling in the way he’s touching Jon all over now, smooth, firm strokes that make him feel heavy.

“So,” Tommy says. “That was a surprise.”

Jon only hums and draws him into another kiss. Tommy laughs and indulges him. In between making out, he pushes and prods at Jon to get him up the bed, so his head’s on the pillows. Jon can feel his eyes getting heavy, but he can’t stop smiling. When Tommy pulls back to look at him, he’s smiling, too. He looks faintly surprised still, a little wondrous.

“No flak jacket?” he asks, clearly trying to keep a straight face.

“Wouldn’t fit in my suitcase,” Jon mumbles, feeling like it’s far too many words to string together right now. Tommy laughs again, but it’s fond.

“Makes sense,” he says. “Be right back.”

He disappears into the bathroom, leaving Jon to doze on the bed. Jon can hear him moving around, taking care of the condom, filling up a glass of water. Probably wetting a towel to bring back and wipe them both down.

“Hey, Jon,” Tommy calls, and he struggles to push himself up on his elbows to look toward the bathroom.

Tommy’s leaning in the door frame, unabashedly naked and beautiful. Jon feels crazy just looking at him. Feels like he could probably go again, maybe, after they get room service. Tommy smirks, like he knows what Jon’s thinking. He probably does. He usually does.

Jon barely remembers to ask, “Yeah?”

“What about the handcuffs?”

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr occasionally](http://no-birdstofly.tumblr.com).
> 
> also, this is the second fill for the prompt, and the really amazing first one is [over here](https://podsavethekink.dreamwidth.org/659.html?thread=74131#cmt74131)!


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